It's Hard to Fly Without Wings
by woahh.there
Summary: Gabriella Montez is new to Albuquerque, New Mexico, but she's used to being the new girl. Once Troy Bolton meets her, it's love at first sight. Well... almost. Teenage love means writing bad poetry in your room, but it also means so much more. R&R please!
1. Out with the bold, in with the New

**Gabriella**

_ All right_. I took a deep breath in. I couldn't seem to find the strength to let it out. _Here we go again._ I put my hand on the door, and pushed it open. A rush of air hit my face, although I think I imagined it. I slowly released the breath I had been holding in, and took a step forward. Then another, and another. _This isn't so bad, _I thought.

"Yo, move it, will you? You're holding up the door." I turned around. A large group of people was stuck behind me, waiting for me to walk in.

"Come on!" The group chorused. I gulped. _Great… embarrassment on the first day._ I ran away from the door, feeling my eyes burn. I ducked into the women's restroom on the left, and splashed my face with water. I grabbed a piece of paper towel and wiped my face. I clutched the sink until my knuckles were white and then walked out. I knew the routine – go to the main office, get my schedule, go to my classes, do my homework, be labeled as a geek, have a few friends, and then move a year later. Same old, same old. With my dad being a scientist, we're always on the move, be it Australia or Missouri. This time we moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico. We haven't settled down for more than a year since I was three. In the beginning it was hard, but now I'm completely used to it. The first day of school is always the most difficult part of the transition, though.

I walked out of the restroom and looked around. _This school is big._ I wandered for a few minutes, searching for the main office. I think someone figured out I was lost, because after a while a girl approached me. She had dark, chocolate skin, and wide eyes. She wore a green tank top and a short mini skirt, with a purple headband in her black hair. She tapped me on the shoulder.

"Hi, I'm Taylor." She stuck out her hand. I assumed she wanted me to shake it. I did.

"And your name is…?" She smiled, waiting politely as I stood there stupidly. _She probably thinks I'm an idiot._ I straightened my posture.

"I'm, uh, Gabriella Montez." I smiled back in response.

"You got some, er, lipstick on your tooth." She pointed at my front tooth.

"Oh, thanks." _Damn it. Good job, Gabi. You were in the bathroom for ten minutes and you didn't even bother to check your teeth for lipstick?_

I kept my hand in front of my mouth, trying to be subtle.

"No problem." She looked me up and down. "Are you new? I don't think I've seen you around before."

"Yeah." _Quite the talker,_ I mocked myself.

"Oh, cool. Well, what are you looking for? I'm sure I can help you."

"The main office. I need my schedule."

"Follow me!" She took off with an almost skip in her step. I hurried to keep up. "It's just right through here." She stopped and pointed at a small red door with a little slot as a window.

"Thanks," I said.

"My pleasure."

I walked inside to the small office and peered outside the window. Taylor was still standing there.

"Excuse me. May I help you?" A stout woman was sitting behind a short desk. Her hair was grey with blond high lights, and her face looked like an art project gone wrong – makeup was splattered all over her face.

"Yeah, um, I'm new, and I need my schedule," I explained quietly.

"I'm gonna need your name, address –."

I cut her off, "Gabriella Montez, 326 Bellview Road, Eleventh Grade, birth date February seventeen." I knew the routine too well.

"Here it is," the woman said, a look of confusion on her face. She handed me a schedule, color-coded and all.

Without saying "thanks", I turned on my heel and walked out of the compact room. Taylor was still standing there.

"Did you get it?" She asked, grabbing the schedule from my hand.

"Yup." _Why does she care?_ I wondered.

"Cool! We have the same bio classes! Oh and the same lunch period… awesome. I'll walk you to your first class." She chattered away while I was lost in my own thoughts. I gathered that she had figured out I wasn't much of a talker, so she filled the silence with her voice.

"… and that's how I got my dog," she finished. "Here we are!" We stopped walking and she opened the door in front of me. "See you at lunch. Good luck!" She waved enthusiastically. I smiled meekly in return.

I walked into the classroom where a teacher stood in front of the room. Teenagers all around me were talking, catching up about who developed more over the summer or where they got such a dark tan. They were all too into their conversations to notice me. _As usual,_ I thought. I sighed and sat down in a seat in the back of the room.

"Class!" The teacher stood up. "My name is Ms. Darbus. Welcome to Eleventh Grade theatre class." She moved around the room, smiling at every single one of the people she passed. She looked at the sheet of paper she was holding in her hand. "It appears we have a new student we must welcome! I would like everyone to say hello to Ms. Gabriella Montez." She pointed a finger at me. A few people murmured "hi", but otherwise the room was unenthusiastic. "Do you have anything you would like to say, Ms. Montez?" Ms. Darbus asked. I shook my head.

"Ah, a bit shy are we?" She smiled, obviously pitying me. "That's alright!" She turned back to the front of the room and exclaimed, "by the end of the year, you all will be theatrical geniuses filled with sun shine!" Skeptical glances plagued the room. I slumped deeper into my chair. _Here we go again._

**Troy**

"Get a load of this one." Chad nudged my shoulder.

"I know, dude. She's insane," I responded, referring to Ms. Darbus. She rambled on and on about how we will each be 'theatrical geniuses filled with sun shine' by the end of the year. That's a load of crap. I'm a basketball player - that's just not what I do.

The bell rang. _Finally! __Thank God._ I looked up at the ceiling. _I owe you one._

"That class is such a rip off. It sucks we gotta take it in order to graduate," Chad said.

"Yeah, seriously. There was not one interesting thing in that class."

"Ah, I beg to differ, my friend. Were you paying attention in the beginning?" Chad asked.

I stopped and stared at him. "I haven't paid attention in class since third grade."

"Well Ms. Darbus introduced this new girl. She was hot."

"Not as hot as Sharpay, though, right?"

"I dunno, man. She might have some competition this year," Chad grinned. He elbowed me. _Click, click, click._ I heard the sound of high heels echoing through the hall ways. We looked at each other. Speak of the devil.

"TROY! Oh Troy! Yoohoo!" Her voice rang in the halls. Her blond hair was blonder than ever, and she wore enough pink to be the next telly tubby. I tried to pretend like I didn't hear her, but I think just about every living thing within a three mile radius could hear her.

"Troy! Slow down!" She giggled and walked as fast as she could in high heels. _Just keep walking,_ I thought. A hand grabbed my shoulder. I flinched as it swiftly turned me around.

"TROY!" She screamed again, as if the first three times weren't enough.

"Sharpay!" I said with mock enthusiasm.

"You didn't return any of my phone calls this summer. I worried." She pouted her lips.

"I was out of the country," I lied.

"Where were you? Like, Texas or something?" She playfully hit me on the shoulder.

"How'd you guess?" I didn't even bother to tell her Texas was a state in this country.

The bell rang. I looked up again. _You're a good guy._ "Oh, looks like I'm gonna be late for my next class! See you later, I guess." I quickly walked away from her, leaving her staring at the space where I was standing in moments ago. I saw Chad at the end of the hallway. "Dude!" I shouted. "Wait up!"

Once I caught up with him, a small smirk was sitting smugly on his face. "What?" I asked, trying to imitate his expression.

"Oh nothing," he continued to smirk.

"No, come on." I punched his shoulder.

"You're flirting back."

"I am not."

"Are too."

"Chad, seriously. She's gorgeous, but like, she's a friggin' idiot. She thought Texas wasn't in the United States." The smirk was replaced with a smile. "And her brother follows her everywhere. If I tried to make a move on her, which I don't even want to do, he would be there, watching me try to get some action from his sister." He laughed. "We'll pretend like this never happened," I offered.

"Agreed." We approached the stair case. "See you at lunch?"

"Since kindergarten," I responded. I had been best friends with Chad for as long as I could remember. We always made the basketball team together, and we confided in each other for everything. The bell rang again. I rushed up the stairs, watching my feet catch up beneath me. Suddenly I felt a body bump into me.

"Sorry," the body mumbled. I looked up. It was a girl. She looked familiar.

"'Sokay." I stopped. She tried to get past me, but I was blocking the stairwell. "Do I know you?"

She seemed shocked. "Uh, I don't think so. I'm new." Then it clicked. She was the as-hot-as-Sharpay girl Chad was talking about.

"I think you're in my theatre class," I said. I wasn't sure where I was going with this.

"Cool." We stood there for a minute, looking at each other. She broke the silence. "I've, um, gotta get to class." She brushed passed me quickly, and in a moment, she was gone.


	2. You'll Learn Eventually

**Gabriella**

I walked quickly to the cafeteria. I was hungry. Just as I expected, Taylor was there waiting for me. "Hey, Gabi! It's okay if I call you Gabi, right?" She chirped.

"Yeah, sure," I responded.

"Awesome!" _Why is this girl so cheery? Or, more importantly, how is she so cheery?_ "So, how was your first couple of classes?" She asked, seemingly interested.

"Eh. Fine, I guess."

"Meet any potential buddies?"

"Not really. I wasn't looking for any."

"Oh," she said, appearing hurt.

"But I like you!" I tried to recover. Her face still showed she was upset. _Fail._ Trying to change the subject, I grabbed a plastic red tray from the lunch line and joked, "Does the food here suck like all the other schools I've been too? Well, except that one school I went to in France. Now that was some good eatin'." I rubbed my stomach playfully. She smiled.

"It's not gourmet, but it's not inedible. Just stay away from the casserole," she warned.

"If I had a dime for every time someone told me that…" I started. I didn't need to finish. She threw back her head and let out a laugh like I've never heard before. Mission accomplished.

Feeling satisfied I walked over to a lonesome table in the back of the cafeteria. I sat down, expecting to see Taylor sitting down next to me. Instead, she was still in the lunch line, staring at me with her mouth open. She closed her mouth and shook her head slowly. I got up and walked over to her.

"What? More lipstick on my teeth?"

"No, it's just… You can't sit there."

"Why not?"

"You don't belong there. We're different than them," she explained. I still didn't understand.

"Have you ever heard of the Jim Crowe laws?" I joked. I waved my hand in front of her face. "Hello, there! Welcome to the twenty-first century." Her face remained serious. Either she didn't get the joke, or there was something _I_ wasn't getting.

She continued to look at me, and then asked quietly, "Have you ever heard of 'cliques'?" She was talking to me like I was a three year old.

"Yeah," I played along.

"Well, here at East High, we're big on those. I belong to the Math Team clique, and, because you are now my friend and you're good at math," she gestured to my Advanced Calculus text book, "you belong there, too."

I stood there dumbfounded. Of all the schools I had gone to, I had never been to one this clique-y. Sure there were jocks and geeks, but they were still able to sit together at lunch. "Oh, okay. Thanks for telling me."

"No prob." She put her arm around me and steered me in the direction of her clique's table. "Oh, Gabi. What would you do without me?"

"I dunno," I responded quietly. I was still amazed at the fact that I had been labeled so early on in the game. I looked over at the table where I had originally intended to sit. Two people were sitting there. A guy with ridiculously big hair, who wore a jersey and basketball shorts, and another guy whose face I couldn't see. He turned around, and I recognized him to be the kid I bumped into on the stairwell. The kid from my theatre class, as he had so articulately told me. Our eyes met for a moment, but Taylor interrupted me.

"We have arrived," she said, sliding into a chair. We had indeed arrived at our table, and fellow Math Team-ers greeted me. Each of them had an Advanced Calculus textbook placed in front of them. They all waved at me, smiling. I waved back.

I looked back at the theatre-class-kid, wondering if he was still looking at me. More people, majority of them wearing jerseys or cheer leading outfits surrounded him. He was flirting with one of the girls at the table. She looked as if she were Paris Hilton's Barbie doll. I rolled my eyes. _Typical._


	3. Hello, My Name Is

**Troy**

"So then I was all like, orange is so not my color. I mean, come on. Do you think orange is my color?" Sharpay asked, thinking I was paying attention. Which I totally wasn't.

"Huh?" I put on my most innocent face.

"Ugh, Troy! It's like you never listen to me," Sharpay giggled. No matter what I do to her, she always thinks I'm flirting. I could call her flat out ugly, and she would take it as a compliment. It's unfortunate she's so hot – otherwise she probably wouldn't have as many friends as she does.

I usually don't pay attention to her because she's the most uninteresting, bitchy, shallow girl I've ever met. And if I did pay attention to her, it was on the rare occasion that I was feeling bad about myself. I would listen to her talk for about two minutes and then my self-esteem would boost right back. This time, though, I wasn't paying attention because the as-hot-as-Sharpay girl kept popping into my head. She just sort of flustered me when she bumped into me on the stairs, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about her since. It's not like I'm attracted to her or anything, she just, I don't know, intrigues me. I want to get to know her. I want her to get to know me.

I still haven't told Chad about her. Not that there's anything to tell. But I _want_ there to be something to tell him.

I had been intentionally extra clumsy all afternoon, trying to bump into people in the hopes of bumping into her again. No luck, just bruised shoulders.

"Dude!" I was snapped back to reality. I looked for the source of the voice. Chad.

"Yeah?"

"Jesus, need a hearing aid? I've been calling your name for like three hours."

"Sorry. Just thinking," I explained. I felt guilty, not telling him about the girl. _There's nothing to tell him about!_ I tried to convince myself. _Not yet, at least._ I smiled, thinking of her. I shook my head. I was going insane.

"So, basketball practice after school today. Coach wanted me to tell you." He leaned in closer to me, "can you tell him to let up on the practices? I have a date on Friday, and I don't wanna have to miss it for practice."

I smiled. Typical Chad. "Sure, man." He always tries to get out of practice. He thinks just because I'm the Coach's son, and he happens to be best friends with me, my dad will let him off easy.

I turned back to Sharpay who was deeply immersed in a conversation with another cheerleader. I knew her, but I forgot her name. I didn't care about her name. To me they were all the same.

There was one name, however, that I did care about. A name I was determined to find out.


	4. My Pleasure

**Gabriella**

I was still new to the whole clique thing. Taylor had created a chart for me, with all of the tables in the cafeteria. They were labeled according to clique. Each night I memorized a section of the cafeteria. I saved theatre-class-kid's section for last.

Every lunch period, Taylor would quiz me on the different tables and cliques of East High. She wanted to be a teacher. Go figure.

On the Friday of the first week of school I walked into the cafeteria, ready for today's quiz.

"Hey Gabi!" Taylor said, scooting her chair over to make space for me. I sat down next to her. The second I unpacked my bag she pointed her finger over to the once lonesome table in the back corner of the cafeteria – theatre-class-kid's table. "That one."

I took a breath. "Jocks, cheer leaders, the whole stereotypical high school popular kid bunch. They tend to be rich, and even if they aren't, they're sure to wear designer brand clothing. Otherwise, they can say goodbye to the table." I fake yawned, proving to her I knew my stuff. She clapped her hands wildly.

"Good job! I can now officially call you a student of East High." I bowed. The whole table laughed, and I saw theatre-class-kid look my way. I suddenly felt a sense of pride. There was no way this day could get any better.

**Troy**

_Shit._ I looked away quickly, trying to make sure she didn't catch me looking at her. It was already Friday, and I still hadn't had the guts approach as-hot-as-Sharpay girl. That morning I had failed my Algebra quiz, and I couldn't get Chad out of practice, so he was sort of miffed at me. As if my day couldn't get any worse, Sharpay wiggled into the seat next to me.

"This seat taken?" She asked.

"Not any more," I muttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Er, nothing."

"So look, Troy. There's something I want to talk to you about."

"Hm?"

"You know how I've been like the star of every production since first grade, and I usually get everything I want, right?"

I rolled my eyes, trying not to be subtle. When would she understand that I wasn't into her? "Yes."

"Well, there's one thing I want that I haven't gotten yet."

"And what would that be?" I asked, completely unfazed by the conversation.

She touched the tip of my nose with her index finger. "You."

"What?" I exclaimed, surprised. I mean I knew she liked flirting with me, but now she _wanted_ me?

"You're the perfect boy for me. And I know you like me, too." When I didn't answer, she insisted, "Don't be shy, Troy." _Please be a little less arrogant,_ I thought.

I got up, and placed myself in the direction of as-hot-as-Sharpay girl's table. "Look, Sharpay, lemme get back to you on that one." I took a step toward the other table.

"But Troy!" She shouted after me. I continued to walk towards the table.

"Hey! You!" I called to the girl. What else was I supposed to say?

She turned around and looked me square in the eyes. I squirmed uncomfortably. Sharpay tugged on my arm. "Troy. I want an answer now."

I ignored her, and continued to look at as-hot-as-Sharpay girl. Damn I wanted to know her name.

She got up, and began to approach me. She was carrying her lunch tray with left over food on it. Sharpay's grip on my arm stiffened. As-hot-as-Sharpay girl stopped short and stood right in front of me. "Yes?"

I tried to say something, but nothing came out. I choked. I stood there stupidly. She repeated herself, "yes?" Sharpay stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the girl. She turned around so she was looking at me face-to-face. "Yeah, Troy. Why are you even talking to her?"

I wished I knew the answer. When I didn't respond, Sharpay turned towards as-hot-as-Sharpay girl and grimaced. She clenched her teeth and spat, "You better watch who you're dealing with, missy. This boy is mine. No matter how much you pry or try to steal him from me. It won't matter. You better learn your boundaries." Sharpay pointed over at where the girl was sitting. "You belong over there." She crooked her arm through mine. "And I belong over here."

As-hot-as-Sharpay girl stared at her, her mouth slightly open. She took her lunch tray in her hands, and poured the remainder of her food and drink on top of Sharpay's head. It was at that moment that I realized the whole cafeteria was staring at us, and it seemed as if every body in the room was holding their breath, including me.

It took a few seconds for the shock to sink in, but once Sharpay understood what happened, she let out an ear piercing shrill. Ketchup, pudding, and soda coated her hair. I swear I heard glass crack somewhere in the distance. As-hot-as-Sharpay girl continued to stand there, her expression inscrutable. She looked at Sharpay, her eyes narrow as a hawk's. "It was really a pleasure to meet you," she said earnestly. It looked as if she meant it. She turned towards me and nodded. I barely heard her as she whispered to me, "nice to meet you, too. We should really do this again some time."

Correction: _Now_ my day couldn't get any worse.


	5. Let's Get Something Straight

Gabriella

**Gabriella**

I would like to make one thing clear. I am not usually a bitch. It's just that girl, that cheerleader, that pink wearing; pom-pom flailing, flirtatious, skinny, fake-tanned girl really pissed me off. I mean she _really _pissed me off. I had never been that upset in my life, except maybe that one time when I was living in Asia and I saw a panda get shot. I became a vegetarian after that.

It's not like I haven't been approached by girls like her before, because I have. But she really got on my last nerve. If theatre-class-kid hadn't been there, I don't know what I would have done. The way he looked at me, with his big, blue eyes. He looked scared (although I'm sure it was because he had that witch bitch hanging on his arm). He looked at me like no one has ever looked at me before, like he understood where I was coming from. Which is completely ridiculous, because the only words I've ever exchanged with him are 'sorry' and 'I've gotta go to class'. And after seeing me like that, I doubt he would ever want anything to do with me. Ever.

So instead of seriously injuring her, I dumped trash on her head. Which might have been worse than me breaking her nose… at least if I did break her nose it would've given her an excuse to ask "Daddy" to buy her a new one.

Oops. There I go again, sounding like a bitch.

**Troy**

I would like to make one thing clear. I am not usually a twit. It's just that girl, that beautiful, breath-taking, articulate, straight forward, Math Team girl, left me speechless. The only time I've ever been in that much shock that I couldn't even speak was when I saw Adrianna Lima in a photo shoot as I was walking down the street during a vacation in New York City. Shallow, I'll admit. But I've been girl crazy ever since.

It's not like I haven't seen girls like her before. I definitely have. In fact, I've dated many of them. But she was the first one that didn't flirt with me the second she saw me; she was the first one that didn't care whether or not she was be popular or if she was accepted by every person to the extent that she dumped her leftover food on the Queen Bee.

I know I should've said something, but I didn't. I mean Sharpay was literally hanging on me! I should have just shook her off, and asked the girl for her name. I can't believe it. I still don't know her name. It's ridiculous. How hard could that have been to ask her?

It should have gone like this:

ME: Excuse me, I realize I'm sort of standing in the middle of a catfight, but I would really appreciate it if you told me your name.

AS-HOT-AS-SHARPAY GIRL:

Well. Her name would go there. And I obviously wouldn't talk like that. But it's close enough.

I can't seem to get those words out of my head that Sharpay, the star of every production, spat at the girl, "You belong over there, and I belong over here", like it was the law. Status quos are stupid. Yet I still follow them. Does that make me stupid? Why can't I be more like as-hot-as-Sharpay girl, who clearly didn't care what other people think about her? Hell, _she_ was the star of that production.

I doubt she would even want to tell me her name after she saw me like that. I looked like an idiot. Better yet, I _am_ an idiot.

But why? Why am I an idiot? For caring so much about this girl I don't even know? Everyone would think I was crazy, going after a Math Team-er when I could so easily go out with Sharpay, the rich, gorgeous head cheerleader.

Or am I an idiot for wanting to be different, for wanting change, and not acting on it because I'm scared?


	6. PS I Love You

**Gabriella**

"Wow," Taylor said, for about the fifty-millionth time. "I cannot believe you just did that."

"It was no big deal," I lied. I was still shaking.

"I mean – wow."

"Great vocabulary you got there, Taylor," I joked.

She wasn't paying attention. "The way you didn't say anything, you just dumped your food on her head. Wow. It was so powerful, Gabi, y'know? You stuck up for every single person who has ever wanted to do that to Sharpay Evans. Like. In the whole universe."

My heart fell lower into my chest. _That's a lot of people._

"Gabi." She looked directly at me. I struggled to match her stare. "You're a legend."

I gulped. "A legend? I doubt you could go that far…" But I knew the truth. The second I walked out of the cafeteria, I heard a huge round of applause erupt from the room. It felt good at first, but then I felt a little guilty. I kept trying to remind myself that she deserved it.

To make matters worse, Taylor hasn't shut up about it since. It's already ninth period, and lunch was fourth. As I walk down the hall, I get pats on the back and high fives. All I did was dump garbage on a girl's head. People need to get their priorities straight.

Later on that night at home, I couldn't sleep. And for the two hours that I finally did, I dreamt of the whole Sharpay event, but this time it was theatre-class-kid I was dumping garbage on. It replayed in my head over and over and over. When I woke up the next morning, I was sweating.

I walked over to the schedule hanging on my wall as soon as I got up. I put my head in my hands. First period was theatre class.

**Troy**

I told Chad about the whole Sharpay ordeal. Right after as-hot-as-Sharpay girl left, it seemed as if every person had stood up. People were clapping their hands, stomping their feet, even howling hoots of joy. I had never known she was that hated.

I don't think Sharpay took it to heart. I don't think she realized they were cheering against her; she was so used to having people cheer for her. Or were they really? She just kind of stood there for a minute, a shocked look plastered on her face. The scream continued to parade out of her mouth. I swear my ear drums bled. She then went on to storm out of the cafeteria, probably to clean herself up. No one followed her.

Chad told me I did the right thing. He explained, "Dudes never get into chick fights. It's rule three in the men's hand guide. You should read it some time." He smiled at me, and I knew he was joking. I couldn't find the strength to smile back. The smile disappeared from his face. He knew something was wrong.

That's the annoying thing about having a best friend, they always know when there's something wrong. I didn't tell him about as-hot-as-Sharpay girl, but I did tell him about Sharpay five days after the incident.

"Sharpay asked you out?"

"Yup."

"Are you sure?"

"Um, I'm pretty sure, telling me she 'wants' me is the equivalent to asking me out."

"True," he nodded. Silence. "So, what'd you say?"

"I told her I'd get back to her."

He nodded again. Cue the silence.

"How about that other girl?"

I froze. Clearing my throat, I asked shakily, "w-what other girl?"

"You know, as-hot-as-Sharpay girl. The one who went ballistic in the cafeteria."

"Oh, oh yeah, her," I said, trying to be nonchalant. I'm not sure how well it worked.

"She's good stuff, man," he said. At least I had his approval.

"I guess."

"You still don't know her name, do you?"

"Nah."

"You should ask her."

This time I nodded my head. Silence.  
We approached the school building as the first bell rang. Chad and I looked at each other, and we ran toward the school.

"What's first period?" Chad asked, breathing heavily.

"Theatre," I responded without thinking. _Theatre,_ I repeated in my head. _Shit._ I wasn't sure if I wanted to run faster or not, so I continued to run at the same speed. When we got to the school's door, I hesitated. I did not want to approach as-hot-as-Sharpay girl. Not today. Not ever again. She only made things more complicated.

Chad looked at me, his head cocked to the side. "What?" He asked.

"Nothing." I opened the door with full force, and it banged the wall inside. I walked quickly to theatre class, not daring to check if anyone was looking at me. I got to the classroom door and took a seat in the front of the empty room. Just then, as-hot-as-Sharpay girl walked in. I tried not to look at her, but my eyes clung to her body like a magnet. She was not _as_-hot-as-Sharpay girl. She was _hotter_-than-Sharpay girl.

She walked right past my desk, without showing any signs of thinking about me. I let out a breath of air I didn't know I was holding in. I had to know her name by the end of class.

Ms. Darbus walked in five minutes later. She lectured us about how theatre was more than acting - it was reacting. My mind had more important things to think about. I thought of different ways I could find out her name. I reached inside my bag and pulled out a sheet of loose leaf and a pen. I knew this wasn't third grade anymore, but I was desperate. I wrote:

"What's your name?" Simple and to the point. I folded it up, and told the guy sitting next to me to pass it on. I dared not look to see if she got it. What felt like an eternity later, the note was thrown back onto my desk. I hesitated to open it. In small, perfect cursive, her name was written:

"Gabriella." I rolled it over and over in my mouth. I chewed on it. I could taste her name. I liked the way it tasted. I realized she hadn't asked me for my name. I debated whether or not to continue to the conversation. I tried again. What should I ask her? I didn't want it to seem like I couldn't think of anything clever like, "what are your hobbies? I collect rocks". But I also didn't want to sound like I was completely desperate, "I enjoy long walks on the beach." I wanted her to be able to talk to me, and I wanted to be able to talk to her.

It was then that I realized the perfect question. I scribbled it onto the paper hastily and passed it back around the room. I stared at the clock, each second acting like a gavel on my heart. Forty seven seconds later, the note appeared on my desk. I ripped it open, deciding not to waste time.

In my handwriting, the question: "Do you like me?" Two boxes were placed next to "yes" and "no". There were no checks in either of them.

In her handwriting, the answer: There was a box with the word "maybe" written next to it. There was a check in that one.

I looked back at her, my insides exploding like fireworks. I felt a grin creeping up on my lips. I tried to contain it, but I couldn't. It erupted on my face for the firework grand finale, for everyone to see. She was looking straight ahead. She looked at me out of the corner of her eyes. She winked. If she didn't, I was hallucinating. Either way, my grin widened. I swiveled back to the front of the room.

"Mr. Bolton?" Ms. Darbus called out my name.

"Yes, ma'am?" I didn't care every pair of eyes in the room were staring at me.

"I'm glad to see my class is making you so happy." I couldn't tell if she was mocking me for the grin on my face, or if she was serious. I nodded and kept my mouth shut. I didn't want to ruin this sensation that was washing over me by saying something stupid. If I was going to open my mouth for anything, it was going to be to bite my tongue.


	7. Just My Luck

**A/N: Sorry for the wait... busy summer what with school starting soon. New chapter should be up within the next three days or so!**

**Gabriella**

_I winked; he smiled like I had never seen anyone smile before. I tried to be nonchalant. I don't think it worked very well._

"Gabi!" I was being shook. I was snapped unpleasantly out of my thoughts. I had been replaying that moment in my head for days now.

"What?" I asked, my tone harsh. Maybe a bit too harsh. I looked around, coming back to reality. _Library, seventh period study hall. Check._

"I need to know whether or not this is a Pythagorean triple," Taylor explained coolly. She pointed to the textbook in front of me. "And I've been calling your name for ever. Open the book and help me out." _Jeez, _I thought. _Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today._

I hastily opened the book and looked up Pythagorean triples. I found the page I was looking for, and attempted many times to read it. My eyes read the words, but my brain could not process them. Taylor stared at me, her eyes wide with concern. She knew I was distracted.

"Gabi?" She asked. She touched my arm with her fingers lightly. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," I said unconvincingly.

"Come on." She nudged my shoulder. Suddenly the worried look left her face, and was replaced with a smirk. "It's not that Bolton kid again, is it?"

I tried not to smile. _Bolton._ Too late. My lips curled up. I didn't even bother to answer verbally; my expression said it all.

"Gabi!" Taylor exclaimed, "We've gone over this." I rolled my eyes. I had told Taylor what happened in drama class a few days ago, when Troy Bolton passed me notes. It's not like I had a choice, really. The whole entire class saw it. Taylor practically attacked me after class, begging for details.

Since then I haven't seen Troy in the hallways. I'm not sure if he's avoiding me or not, but I have no desire to find out. If he wants to talk to me, he can bump into me in the halls again. Taylor was in complete disbelief when it happened, which I kind of took the wrong way. She explained to me that this was nearly impossible; that this had never happened before. She couldn't believe Troy was communicating with someone out of his clique voluntarily. She didn't believe anything more was going to happen.

Instinctively, I agreed with her, trying not to start a fight. I didn't want to have to memorize cafeteria tables again. I really did try to tell myself that nothing would happen, that maybe he thought I was someone else, but I couldn't bring myself to terms with that.

Sure, I found it weird that the king of the jocks was passing me notes in class like we had been best friends since kindergarten. I even found it weird that I humored him and replied to them. It was like someone completely different came into my body and took over. My head was so blank when I was writing those reply notes, I thought I was going crazy. Maybe I was. Maybe I _am._

"You can't like him, Gabi. You're just going to end up getting hurt." Taylor searched my eyes for agreement. She spoke again when she found none. "He belongs with Sharpay, queen bee. He needs someone stupid and blond who cheers him on in everything he does, because that's all she knows how to do. That's just how it goes. You're too good for him, Gabi." I finally met her gaze. "You should know that."

"Then why do you like Chad Danforth?" I inquired. She never told me she liked him, but I saw a tiny picture of him taped onto the corner of the inside of her locker. Unless she threw darts at the picture in her spare time, she was clearly attracted to him. As if to prove my theory, she blushed.

"I do not!"

"Oh please. I saw the picture in your locker," I replied. "You may be captain of the debate team, but you can't win this argument." Now her ears grew red.

"I don't," she insisted. I continued to look at her. She flinched and lowered her voice, "Fine, you win. But it's nothing serious. Just a teensy weensy crush." She pinched her fingers together, demonstrating how tiny her crush was. Like I would believe that. "That's all. And if you tell anyone, I'll kill you."

I smiled, allowing satisfaction to wash over me. The bell rang, and Taylor and I packed up our stuff. It was my last period for the day, so I headed over to my locker, not before spotting a door I hadn't noticed before. It was a green door, which made it unique. All the other doors in the school were either red or a yucky wood color. Curiosity got the best of me. I told Taylor I'd call her when I got home, and walked towards the door. It pushed open almost by itself, revealing a spiral staircase leading to another door.

I walked up the stairs, pacing myself with each step. When I got to the next door I slowly pushed it open, and I was practically blinded by all the sunlight that shone in my eyes. Rows and rows of different arrays of plants were lined up on large tables, and a glass skylight allowed light to penetrate through to the room. I looked down and saw sky-blue tiles with images of suns on them. The room was still, and I just stood there for a few minutes, listening to the rare silence. I felt like I was in a scene right out of "The Secret Garden".

A sudden rustling noise woke me from my meditation. I looked to find the source of the noise, and I sauntered in the direction of where I thought I heard it. I wandered through the aisles of plants and the noise grew louder as I drew closer. I stopped and listened, trying to make out the sound. I realized it was something, or rather, someone moving around. I moved faster towards the noise, afraid the person was a teacher, and if I ran away from them I would get detention for intruding private property and ignoring a higher authority.

When I got to the source of the noise I stopped dead in my tracks, a deer-in-the-headlights-look plastered on my face. I shouldn't have followed the sound. I should've escaped when I had the chance. If I were smarter, I wouldn't be standing face-to-face with Troy Bolton.


	8. Chemistry can happen in biology labs too

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys. I'll try to update more often!**

**Troy**

The fact that I am captain of almost every sports team in the school earns me the automatic label of a stupid good-looking jock. While parts of that statement are true, I am not stupid. I enjoy reading books. In fact, I take pleasure in reading books. It is my deepest secret, and I am proud of it. If I told anyone, they wouldn't understand; they wouldn't accept it. I don't read trashy teenage novels, which all have the same story lines: Boy meets girl, said boy cheats on girl, boy realizes girl is right for him, boy comes back to girl, boy and girl live happily ever after. I hate that shit, only classics for me. Shakespeare, Dickens, Allen-Poe. They all feature a main character that is hiding something from the world. Sometimes they're ashamed of it, sometimes they're not, but either way they're afraid they won't be accepted. The character has some sort of a secret place where they can think their thoughts without being interrupted and sort things out. The greenhouse of the school is mine; ever since the biology curriculum stopped using it no one ever comes up here anymore.

I think about everything here. This is the place where I come up with winning game plans for the basketball team, where I finish my term papers, or where I sort out relationship problems. This is where it's at.

So maybe that explains why I'm standing in front of Gabriella Montez. Maybe that explains why I'm so nervous and I'm practically having a heart attack in front of the one girl that makes me scared.

I don't know how long we stood there, staring at each other. Her chocolate eyes put me into a deep meditation causing me to lose track of time, and her body made me want to move closer. When I did, she spoke.

"Sorry. I should go."

_What?_ I panicked. She turned to leave, and I grabbed her arm instinctively. My fingers tingled as I touched her skin. "Don't," I pleaded.

"Why not?"

"Because, um. I don't want you to?" I offered unsurely.

"Right. Because you don't want me to. And you think I'm going to listen and obey to your every command just because you're Troy Bolton?" I smiled. She knew my name. "You think I'm kidding?" She asked harshly, noticing my grin.

"No, no, you're right," I said. "I just would really like you to stay." Her brow furrowed and I let go of her arm.

After a moment she responded, "Fine. But this better be worth it." I gestured for her to sit down next to me on the bench. She obeyed, ironically.

"So, uh, what is this place?" She asked. Her lips were so beautiful.

"It's the greenhouse the biology department built, but no one ever uses it anymore."

_Beat._

"Is it like your hiding place?"

I blinked. "Yeah. It is, actually." I shook my head in disbelief. "Wow," I mumbled. I hoped she didn't hear it, but apparently she did.

"What?" She asked, puzzled.

"No, it's just that… you get it."

"Of course I get it!" She exclaimed. "Everyone needs a place where they can just let everything go without anyone seeing them or judging them or anything. My place is on the roof of my house. It's so quiet and peaceful and I feel like I can see the world from there. It's nice," she concluded, and looked at me. Suddenly the sincerity in her voice disappeared, "But what do you have to hide from? You are Troy Bolton. Captain of every sports team. Every boy wants to be your best bud, and every girl wants to be your girl friend. You are the student body, Troy." She laughed. "You're like the Leviathan."

"The Leviathan?" I repeated, confused.

"Yeah, y'know, Thomas Hobbes' Leviathan?" When I didn't respond, she continued, "Thomas Hobbes wrote about this one person, this king, who embodied the society as a whole. That's you." She hit me playfully on the shoulder. "How does that make you feel?"

I pondered the question for a minute. "It makes me want to stay up here longer," I responded.

"I don't get it."

"Do you know how hard it is to be at the center of the attention all the time? To have the spotlight slowly burning through every layer of you until you feel like you've just lost everything you stand for?"

Gabriella stood up and looked at me. "Is this true? Troy Bolton, doubting himself? I'm quite surprised," she teased. It annoyed me.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. The smirk was wiped off her face.

"You want to know something?" She inquired quietly. She leaned in close to me. Her eyelashes were touching my nose. I held my breath.

"Yes," I whispered.

"I've always been the new girl. It's something I'm used to. I know my place in the world right now. I'm happy with being the typical quiet geek. I'm used to being treated like scum by girls like Sharpay. And you, Troy Bolton, are no scum. You are at the top of the heap. No spot light on me."

I waited for her to continue. "And…?" I asked.

"And," she started. Then she stopped and sat back down, looking defeated. "And I don't know. It's just – why are you talking to me? Why aren't you talking to Chad or Sharpay or some other one of your friends? I'm a nobody."

I gulped. I was afraid this might come up. "Honestly, Gabriella?" She nodded her head. I hesitated, and then continued. "It's just, you're different from any other person I've ever met. You don't treat me like I'm the king or whatever. You treat me like any other person you would meet, and I like that." I laughed. "This sounds like a terrible Disney movie."

She smiled. "You're right. Let's start over." She got up and walked out of my sight.

"Where are you going?" I shouted after her, starting to get up.

Suddenly her head popped up from around the corner, and a look of surprise spread across her face. "Troy Bolton!" She exclaimed. "Funny bumping into you here."

I played along. "Well if it isn't Gabriella Montez. Why don't you come sit down next to me and we can chat?"

"Oh, it would be a pleasure," she responded. Her eyes twinkled.

She came and sat down next to me. We spat words at each other, covering every topic from Barbie dolls to vegetarianism. I got lost in the sound of her voice, the light in her eyes, and the movement of her mouth.

"Troy… what time is it?" She asked, breaking the rhythm of our conversation.

I looked at my watch. My eyes bulged out when I read the numbers. "Five-thirty." I was missing basketball practice. The captain of the team was missing basketball practice. My dad was going to be so pissed.

"Crap," we said simultaneously. She gathered her things and got up quickly. I had intended to do the same, but instead I watched her. "Look, Troy, I really have to go… debate team," she explained.

"Oh. Well, okay." I stood up and we walked silently to the exit.

She suddenly stopped and turned to me. "Well, this was nice?" The question mark at the end of the sentence confused me.

"Why is that a question? It should be a statement. This _was_ nice," I said forcefully, almost like I was reassuring myself that it was.

"Alright, alright, sheesh. It was nice." The smile reappeared on her face. I smiled back. She tended to have that effect on me.

I wish I could have frozen that moment in time. The smile on her lips, the twinkle in her eyes, the complexion of her face. Everything about her was just so… perfect. A piece of hair was strewn across her cheek. I brushed it off her face, and she jumped.

"Sorry," I muttered. Her cheeks turned a crimson red.

Without acknowledging my apology, she opened the door and hurried down the stairs.

I called after her; "We'll have to do this again sometime!"

No response. I forced myself to believe she was nodding her head in agreement.


	9. Where Art thou Romeo?

**Gabriella**

I've been staring at my ceiling for about two hours. There are a few cracks in it. When I first started looking at it, it was white. Now it's a dark pink. There's obviously something wrong with me.

I don't usually get so flustered. But that was weird. I mean, me, Gabriella Montez, resident school math geek, talking to Troy Bolton, hunky (for lack of a better word) basketball player, for two hours about everything and anything. Why would he hang out with me when he could have Sharpay? I asked him that question. He answered it with words, but I'm still listening for the meaning.

And while I was talking to him, I laughed. I threw my head back and I _laughed._ Like Taylor did the first day of school. I don't think I've ever laughed like that. I don't think I've ever met someone who could make me laugh like that. But maybe I was only happy at a superficial level. Maybe I was just so entranced by those eyes, by that smile, by those perfect dimples. I need a reality check.

_Zzz._ I jumped, feeling something vibrate in my pocket. I checked the caller ID. "Taylor" was flashing in bold black letters. I picked up.

"Hello?" I asked.

"Hey, it's me."

"Yeah, I know. There's this thing called caller ID…" I responded, rolling my eyes. For someone so smart, she could be so slow sometimes.

"No time for sarcasm, Gabi."

"Sorry, jeez." I heard her breathing hard on the other end. "Where are you?"

She giggled, "At school."

I eyed the clock on my wall, "Taylor, it's six thirty in the evening. Why are you still at school?"

She giggled again. "That's why I called. You know how I signed up for that tutoring program? Where I tutor a kid from our school and get service credit?"

"Oh yeah," I said, lying. I hadn't been paying to attention to our conversations lately.

"Well, they stuck me with someone last minute. Guess who it is. Just guess."

"Uh, Ben?" I asked, trying to remember people who I had recently met who were worthy of failing their classes.

"No." I could hear the impatience in her voice.

"Kathy?"

"No."

"Thomas?"

"No! Come on, how difficult is this?"

"Obviously difficult. Gee, Tay, there are only about two thousand kids in our high school."

"Whatever, fine. I'll just tell you. It's…" She left the sentence uncompleted. I hate it when she does this. She likes to build suspense.

"Spit it out already!" I exclaimed, sitting up.

"Chad Danforth!" She squealed.

I fell back down onto my bed. "That's great, Taylor." I felt a pang of disappointment rush through my body. I was hoping to hear a different name.

"I know! I'm so nervous, Gabi. He came straight from practice in his uniform and I can see his muscles bulging." I could almost see her blushing.

"So? Make a move!"

"That's so inappropriate. I can't just make a move. I'm his _tutor._" Her voice lowered, "It's strictly business."

"Oh, shut up. Just be yourself."

"Easy for you to say."

"Yeah, whatever," I sighed. "Look, I gotta go." I didn't really have to. I just didn't feel like talking anymore.

"Okay. Well, wish me luck!" She said nervously.

"Good luck, Tay. You'll be fine. Just don't let him catch you drooling." I smirked and hung up the phone before she could protest. I went back to my original position and continued to stare up at my ceiling. I closed my eyes, watching the darkness on the back of my eyelids. I think I fell asleep, because when I opened my eyes again, it was eight thirty. A tapping on my window made me jump.

I got up slowly and walked over to my window. In one swift motion, I opened the curtains, only to reveal a shadow lurking on my balcony. I gasped and grabbed the bat that was propped up against my wall. I cautiously opened the window. The shadow moved closer.

"Gabriella?"

I shrieked, and swung the bat out the windows. I heard a yelp, and then a hard _thump_. I peered out the window, only to see Troy's body lying limply on balcony. _Shit._

I hopped out my window as panic suffocated my body. I watched him for a minute, sprawled helplessly on the floor. At that moment, I wanted nothing more but to lie down next to him.

It didn't really hit me until that moment that Troy Bolton had snuck up onto my balcony. Lord only knows how long he'd been up there, waiting. I felt violated and flattered simultaneously. Only Troy Bolton could make me feel like that.

I don't know how long I sat there, staring at him. I brushed his hair away from his eyes and waited. I don't know what I waited for, exactly – but when he woke up, I felt like I knew everything about him.

His eyes fluttered and my heart mirrored his eyelashes. He looked around helplessly, and I couldn't help but laugh. He was adorable.

"What?" He asked, sitting up. "Ouch." He lay back down just as quickly as he had gotten up.

"My thoughts exactly," I responded. "You kind of snuck up onto my balcony. Being the paranoid girl I am, I thought you were a robber or something, and, erm," I paused, embarrassed and ashamed, "knocked you out with my baseball bat."

His face remained confused. Then his mouth opened, and he laughed. And laughed and laughed. I started to laugh, too.

"My sides!" I exclaimed, holding my hips.

"My spleen!" He gasped, grabbing my arms and pulling me onto the ground next to him. Abruptly, I stopped laughing. So did he. We turned to face each other. When I saw my reflection in his eyes, I saw a little girl looking back at me. He brought out the freedom I so desperately craved, and the youth I never knew existed.

There are times when I wish that I were still five years old. A time when I thought boys had cooties and my biggest concern was whether or not I drew in the lines in my coloring book. When I was five I wanted to be older. But now the more I grow up, the more I wish I could be a kid again. Funny how things work out.


	10. Love is Fill in the Blank

**Troy**

I'm used to having girls fall all over me. What I'm not used to is falling all over another girl.

In first grade, I had this project thing-y where I had to find out what love meant to me. Now that I think about it, my definition was so primitive; it's kind of amusing. But whatever floated my boat… I said that love was when you cared about someone. Um, no shit, genius. I care about lots of people. What the hell _is_ love?

Maybe it's someone you can see yourself with for the rest of your life. Someone who you think is beautiful and perfect despite their flaws – in fact, you're so friggin' blinded by all of their good qualities that you don't even recognize their bad ones. Maybe it's someone who you just click with, your best friend, your worst enemy. Your soul mate.  
I'm scared that I have one. Sure, I'm young. I've known this girl for two weeks, which is nothing – but I don't care. Time doesn't mean anything when you're in love. I know I'll be in love many times, and that she probably isn't the one… but that's what my dad thought, and he married his high school sweetheart. She's not even **my** sweet heart. She's a brainy beauty who gets me. If I lose her, someone else will eventually repair the hole that she's gashed into my heart. But… what if no one else can?

So here I am. On her balcony, staring at her, wishing she wanted me as much as I want her, knowing that she doesn't. Her big innocent eyes searching my narrow disoriented ones. I don't know how long the silence lasted. Time doesn't matter, remember?

"Hi," I said. Someone had to break the silence.

"Hi," she said. Not even a smile.

"Um." I sat up and scratched my head. "Look, I'm sorry about coming onto your balcony like this. It wasn't my smoothest entrance, I'll admit."

"Yeah, for next time, I suggest you don't rehearse this a few times before you put into action."

I arched my eyebrows. "Next time?"

She removed her gaze from mine. "Well, in general."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

She paused for a few moments, and I swallowed. "Wow, great monosyllabic conversation we got goin' on."

"I'm sorry, I'm just still trying to comprehend that you climbed onto my balcony at eight-thirty on a school night. You're right though – totally rude of me not to engage you in a conversation." She rolled her eyes. I couldn't tell if she was kidding or not.

"Can I be honest with you?" I asked. She nodded. "I don't really know why I climbed up here tonight." I let my eyes wander to the floor. "I thought about calling you, but that didn't seem like it was enough. I wanted to see you. I wanted to be with you." I looked back up at her. She looked… confused. That made two of us.

"Did I say too much?" I asked quietly, after a moment.

"Troy – I don't know. This is just so unreal. We've known each other what, two weeks? You're on my balcony, telling me you want to be with me? Who are we, Troy? Romeo and Juliet? Well, here let me tell you: no, we're not. I've never had a relationship, Troy. Things… they're moving too fast. I need time. I need to think about –."

I put my finger over her mouth, and lay back down on the balcony, staring up at the stars. All of them, each individuals, with their own characteristics, but still undeniably alike. One stood out to me, and I smiled. I pointed up at the star and I said, "Hey, Gabi? That's you. That star right there." She took a deep breath, looked up at the star and then closed her eyes.

"Okay, Troy. Whatever you say."

And then she smiled. And then it was like nothing else mattered, except that I got her to smile, and that she was thinking about _me_, no matter good or bad. That she was with me, and only me, and all the stars that lit up our night, my night, this night.

"Hey, Troy?" She said. "That's the star I chose for you, too."

I took off my watch and grabbed her hand and squeezed it. I laced my fingers through hers, forgetting time, remembering the stars.

Love is about taking chances. Love is about all the trillions of the stars in the sky, and then finding the one that you like the best. Love is about Gabriella Montez.


	11. Somethings are Impossible

**Gabriella**

I have never felt so alone in my whole entire life.

Here I am holding hands with Troy Bolton on my balcony, and he could be mine with a snap of a finger. And I want him, but I know I can't love him. Not just him - I know I can't love, period.

My parents are great, really, they are. So my dad lives a few states away, okay, but my parents are still married, and I know they still love each other. I know they trust each other and I know they know the other would never do anything to hurt them. They love me, too. And I love them. Thing is, none of us loves ourselves.

When I moved to South Carolina for a few months in 7th grade, the first day of school my teacher made all of us sit in a "friendship circle" and list three good qualities about ourselves. Nobody had any trouble with it, except when they got to me, my only answer was a four-letter word: "Pass." The only reason I had friends at that school was out of sympathy, all because I didn't answer that stupid question. It's not that I was shy or didn't want to… I didn't have an answer. I only noticed the flaws in myself, and nothing else.

I can't love because I don't love myself. I strictly depend on others for the love I can't provide myself, and it hurts to be that selfish. My mom doesn't love herself; I grew up listening to her rant about how terrible she looks and how she wishes she was talented, and my dad is quiet about it, but the one time I've heard him talk about himself it was a ballistic argument with my mother. I am shy because I don't want to put others through pain. Like mother like daughter, like father like daughter. Sitting here with Troy is the most hypocritical thing I've ever done.

He's so... clueless. He doesn't get it. All I would take from him is unconditional love, and once my tank was filled with it I would get rid of him and move on. That is the epitome of playing hard to get. So there, Sharpay, you can have him. I can't.


End file.
